Chase The Morning
by makeitstay
Summary: Shilo is left alone after losing her father at the fateful opera. She thought she was free, but will she ever really be free of him? And more to the point, does she really want to be? Sequel to I Have Hidden Behind You. Shathan love. Updated epilogue!
1. Chapter 1

_Shilo_

_(See also Shiloh, Shyloh and Shylo)_

_A name of Hebrew origin, meaning "His gift"_

The first thing she was aware of upon waking was a large and gnawing hunger within her stomach. She let out a small groan, burying her face deeper into the pillow. WIlling the light of morning not to find her. Willing the fuzziness and comfortable embrace of sleep to overtake her once more. But it was not to be. With a jolt she sat up and blinked. The world rushed back. Those few blissful moments of peace were over and she was keenly aware that she was not in her bed, and that the world was not how she so desperately wanted it to be. Everything came rushing back to her at once. Hot tears sprang to her eyes. She picked up the pillow and hugged it to her chest, hunched forward in her father's bed.

She knew, straight away, that it had not been a dream. She was here and he was not. A ragged moan, expression of her grief, escaped her throat, an odd keening sound. She let it build, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears, gripping the pillow so tightly she thought it would tear.

She tried not to think things like: _He'll never sleep here again_ and _If I ever wash these sheets, they'll never smell like him again._

But she did.

No. She couldn't spend the day in his bed. She forced herself to let go of the pillow, climb out of the bed. She looked around his room, furiously rubbing her eyes.

_Stop crying, Shilo. Time to be a grown up. No one but me now. _

She desperately wanted to crawl back into that bed again and let sleep take her once more. Maybe for weeks. Maybe forever. To drift in and out of consciousness, breathing deeply in his slightly cinnamon smelling sheets. She had gotten in the limo and directed them to take her home, where she had changed and then walked to his room as if in a trance, to fall upon his bed and let overwhelming exhaustion overtake her and fall into a dreamless sleep. Now that she woke she found she only wanted to repeat the process.

But no, she could not fall back to sleep, if nothing else, she needed to eat. Shilo felt the need to eat perhaps more keenly than she could ever remember feeling it. Many people, in grief, would lose their appetite completely, so she was given to understand. But she, who had never truly felt a loss of anything - for he had been her everything and had always been there - she found that in her grief, she was ravenous.

Her bare feet on the soft carpet padded comfortably over to his dresser. Saw herself in the mirror there. The mirror was slightly dirty, smudged. But she saw herself, all large eyes and pale skin, totally bald. She snatched her wig from the dresser where she had put it before she climbed into his bed. She pulled it on, an action she had done so many times in the past that it was second nature to her now. Presently it occurred to her - would her hair grow back now in time? It had been the result of years of medication - poison - that had caused it to fall out, right?

Sobs threatened to overtake her again, her shoulders heaved in grief. She had forgiven him all of it, of course. Of course she had. Because he was her father, and her world, and her _everything_. How could she have held it against him that he'd done this to her? He thought he was doing the right thing, hadn't he? Hadn't he always cared for her and loved her?

And yet she felt so sad. So sad to find out that so much she had believed about her life had been a fabrication. So, she wasn't truly sick. She didn't have a blood disease that had been passed to her from her mother. So, he wasn't a doctor, he was a repo man. A killer. An assassin. How many had he killed? How many people had died screaming before him? How many times had he washed his hands and come home to her, to kiss her on the forehead and hold her close. To tell her how much he loved her. To smile sadly and stroke her hair, clutch at her.

_Father._

He had always been so strong. Hands so warm and capable, strong yet his skin soft. His voice comforting and soothing, capable of such emotion. His eyes had always shown her such warmth and kindness. Eyes that filled with love, shone when he smiled, glazed over when he was sad. Always framed by his glasses.

His glasses had been left here, discarded when he had come to find her. And she took them now, holding them in trembling hands. All she had now. These were what she would take to remember him. Because she would not be like him. She woudln't build a shrine to him and barricade herself within it. She knew that, even in the depths of grief she knew that she was going to be strong. She knew that she _was_ strong.

A jolt of sorrow overcame her as she took them and noticed the photos. Black and white and colour. Hanging in frames near his dresser, directly across from his bed. She had thought they were photos of her mother. There were so many of them around the house that she had taken for granted the presence of more of them in his bedroom. She had so rarely stepped foot in this room, not since she had been a child.

(Never in his bed. Perhaps that was a way for him to justify it...The fact that it was never in his bed, never in the bed he'd once shared with Marni.)

She had never seen that there were photos of her, Shilo, gracing these walls. Her eyes filled with tears and they spilled out onto her cheeks. Down her cheeks and she felt them drop. So many tears, because her father really had adored her. So many times when he had compared her to her mother. When he had seen her mother in her face. Now she saw just how much he had cared for her. Because in his room there were no pictures of Marni. Just Shilo.

She walked closer to them and ran a hand down the smooth, cool glass that protected the photo behind it. It was Shilo, when she had been about twelve years old. She was grinning at the camera, sitting on her bed holding tightly to a stuffed animal, a penguin. Shilo remembered that photo being taken, it had been her birthday. A sad day for her father, as it was the anniversary of the day Marni had died, but he had always gotten her a present anyway. Had always let her have a special day despite the fact it was the day his wife and her mother had been taken from him. How had he been able to? Another photo, she was older in this one, looking a little sullen. Probably about fourteen years old, the beginings of teenage angst had set upon her. Half smiling at the camera, dark eyes glinting a little in the light. Arms folded across her chest, across the white nightgown she wore. And the next, she was about sixteen, her father was in the photo too. She remembered he had told her he wanted a photo of her for the family album, and she had folded her arms and pouted that he had to be in it too. Otherwise, she had said, all the photos in the album would just be of her, Shilo. How _boring_, she had exclaimed, and her father had laughed. He had his arm around her in the photo, and she had a small smile on her face, looking at him rather than at the camera. And he was looking at her, looking a little serious, a little self conscious about being in a photo. Shilo ran her hand over their faces in the photo. It was a beautiful photo. She wished she had known. She wished she had known that he made sure that she was the first thing he saw when he woke up.

Shilo went down to the kitchen, the house seeming strange and alien to her. It was a strange thing to walk down the hallway, visions of her mother watching her from photo frames, and know that her father wasn't coming home. To know that she could go downstairs without fearing he might come home and find her out of bed. Without fearing being scolded for leaving the haven of her bedroom, putting herself in danger of airborne germs, which could make her sicker. But rather than giving her a sense of freedom, it filled her with unease. The world seemed open and available to her now, but it also seemed strange and frightening. Without her father to guide her and care for her, she felt quite adrift and alone.

She reached the kitchen and went to the fridge. It occurred to her presently, that she had never prepared her own food before. Her father had always cooked for her. Had always supplied her with the food she picked at and never finished. She had never had much of an apetite or an interest in food, something which displayed itself visually in her small frame. It was, she expects now, a by-product of the poison she had been fed for so long.

Shilo prepared some cereal for herself - figuring that it was something that would be difficult to get wrong - and sat down at the kitchen table to begin to eat it. This in itself was a novelty, since her father had so very rarely let her come downstairs. Often they had both eaten dinner together in her bedroom. He said it was safer for her there. He said it was less draughty, that the plastic around her bed was a guard against germs. He said it was just until he found her cure...

A wave of nausea overcomes her presently, and she drops her spoon midway to her mouth. It clangs on the bowl with a metallic sound. Withrdrawal, perhaps? She feels light headed and slumps forward in the stool, pushing the half eaten cereal away. The kitchen is swimming before her clamps a hand over her mouth, feeling bile rise in her throat.

_Damn. I really wanted to eat that._

It's an odd thought to have, but she genuinely is annoyed that she can't finish the cereal, the first meal she has ever made for herself. Instead she has to run for the bathroom to be sick.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Shilo walked through the large, shadowy house like a ghost, as if she were seeing it for the first time. The hallway was softly lit from the lamps on wall brackets which lined it. She had opened the heavy drapes which had remained closed for so long, letting gentle sunlight trickle in, casting dappled light on the ornate rugs that lined the dark wood floor. The sunlight looked strange, out of place. The trees around the house prevented the majority of the sunlight from streaming through the smudged glass of the windows. But still, it looked different in natural light. Unfamiliar.

There was an odd oval pane of glass, broken, near the end of the hallway, on the wall. Shilo frowned slightly, touching the metal ring that framed the glass. There seemed to be a small room behind it. She'd never noticed it. Hadn't there been a hologram of her mother here? A strange one which had given her chills, it seemed so lifelike, wearing a black veil as if she were mourning. Shilo had never inspected it properly back then, it gave her a creepy feeling under her skin so she had avoided looking at it. Now there was only an empty space, smashed glass. It made her uncomfortable to look at it, this strange empty cavern. A question that could not be answered now. She was once again overwhelmed by a longing for her father. Her eyes burned, raw from crying, yet it seemed she had many tears left, waiting to be released.

_Daddy..._

She padded lightly into her father's study, a place she had sometimes entered on her brief ventures from her room, those times she picked the lock on her door. It had felt so taboo back then, caused her a small thrill of excitement, of rebellion. Now, it just felt sad and empty. So did she. She ran her hand over his desk, the dark wood was old and smooth. His computer, various books and assorted stationery littered it. She eased herself into his chair, curling up, legs tucked under her, and resting her cheek on the soft, cushioned headrest. The velvet was old and tattered but it was soft, and she felt close to him there somehow. She imagined he was there now, that she were in his lap. Imagined she was in his arms. She screwed her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out all other thoughts. She imagined she could smell his cologne, imagined she could feel him breathing. It brought back a torrent of memories. Tears escaped, making the velvet of the chair slightly damp.

* * *

He always tucked her into bed after her bath. Had done since she could remember. Tonight was like no other, she crawled into bed and he sat down beside her, smiling softly.

"Do you have to work tonight, daddy?"

She cuddled up next to him, and his strong arms found their way around her. With his index finger he traced gentle patterns on her arm He smelt lovely, felt warm and secure. As trapped as she often felt, prisoner to her bedroom due to her blood disease, she could appreciate moments like this. Longed for this affection, felt tingly and happy when she could be close to him like this.

"No, Shi." He said gently

Shilo drew back to look up at him, her small hand reaching out to rest on his chest. She could feel his heart, it seemed to be beating especially hard. He touched her cheek, leaned down to her and kissed her softly, chastly. His lips were soft, warm. He drew back but lingered, his lips near hers. A small smile twisted at her mouth, quirking one corner, as she gazed at his eyes that were such a pale green and so full of love.

Yet there was a seriousness that overtook his face as he drew further back from her, ceasing touching her.

"Dad?" She said it in a small voice.

"This isn't..." He faltered, looking at her and seeming so sad, suddenly.

Shilo felt a jab of annoyance, and a frown creased her forehead. That anger that bubbled beneath the surface in her, all the time it seemed, felt hot and threatened to overcome her. She knew it alarmed him when she could jump from being bubbly and obedient, to suddenly angry and unreasonable. She knew because it sometimes alarmed _her_ as well. He might think he had a tough time having to deal with having a raging bundle of emotions for a daughter, but he should try _being_ one!

"What would your mother think?" He looked horrified as he spoke these words so full of emotion, voicing that which had clearly been bothering him for some time.

They had already crossed the line into the taboo territory of sex, weeks earlier. He was still struggling with it, clearly. She had never understood sex, had never understood any of it. Now she did. She understood why it was called making love. What they did seemed beyond physical, to her. Love wasn't just a noun. It was a _verb_. To love. To be loved. To show love. I love you, meant so much more than she had ever imagined it to mean. She understood that now.

"I love you." She said, biting back her anger, nestling into his arms and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

_Please, see me, love me._

He seemed to sigh as he leaned into her, clutching at her, and she felt his shoulders shake a little. Was her father...crying? She was crushed against him, he was gripping her upper arms tightly. It hurt. She made a noise in her throat as he squeezed her tighter, his shoulders still moving in his silent sobs. He was hurting her. She was suddenly afraid, and began to tremble.

"Dad..!" Her voice was a little higher pitched than usual, and it shook.

_Don't be someone I don't recognise!_

He seemed to come back to himself at the sound of her voice and he slackened his grip on her. He moved back and she saw his cheeks were streaked with tears. He looked sad and vulnerable, something she rarely saw in him. Her fear evaporated. All she felt now was intense love for him. She moved forward, put a hand on his leg. She kissed his cheek, tasting his salty tears on her lips. He didn't move away as she kissed him again on the other cheek, then further down, to the corner of his mouth. Her father was a good man, she knew that, as he smiled at her in his melancholy way, tears drying. And he loved her. She knew that as he pushed her back on the bed, kissing her deeply. He straddled her, gently kissing her neck. She knew that he was a kind and loving man, as he pushed up her night gown to reveal her pale body.

"I love you, I love you..."

It's a frantic whisper, and his breath is hot next to her ear. His hands are moving over her, exploring her, enticing her. He was her world. She knew that as he moved against her, illiciting breathless moans from her. Her eyes were bright and burning. She knew he was a good and wonderful man, as he made love to her.

* * *

She rose from the chair, her bottom lip trembling. She blinked rapidly, and walked out of the study. She made her way towards her bedroom. She hated to be here now, hated everything it represented. Hated the place she had been sequestered in. It brought up too many sad feelings about her father. Brought to mind the fact that he kept her here. To love someone as much as she loved him, yet to know they had done something like that, was the most painful feeling. All those years she had longed to be outside. Little did she know, so little did she know.

And she realised now, that she would be leaving soon. Knew she couldn't stand to stay here, to live here without him. She wasn't sure how she was to go about it all, but a plan was slowly forming in her mind. Her blood stained black slip dress, from the opera, was laying on the floor in the doorway of her room. Vaguely she remembered shedding it there, flinging on a night dress, then going to her father's bed to sleep. Bloodstained. With his...

She moaned quietly, sorrowfully, wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, staring at the crumpled slip. Realised that she hadn't showered when she got home. His blood was on the backs of her arms still, just a few flecks here and there. Much had flaked off but she could feel the roughness. An almost masochistic urge not the wash it off tantalised her mind, but she knew that was gross and insane.

Her wrist communicator began to beep and a female electronic voice announced [Incoming message from Lila Reshaldo.]

Shilo was confused, she had no idea who that person was. She frowned and pressed the 'accept' button the side of the watch-like communicator. A small, bright hologram of a middle aged woman was projected from the communicator, turning slowly in the air. Shilo looked at her in confusion, as the message began to play.

"This is a message for Shilo Wallace. My name is Lila Reshaldo, Attorney at Law. I need to speak to you in regards to the recent passing of your father, Nathan Wallace, and his last will and testament. Please come to the Genova Complex, Lot 783A, Sector 7-E, at 9am tomorrow morning. You can reach me at -"

The message continued to play, as the woman listed her phone number. Shilo's expression was blank. The woman ended the call with the standard line about being 'sorry for her loss'. It all seemed rather crisp and uncaring to Shilo. She turned off her communicator and made her way to her bathroom to shower. She felt nauseated again, and also hungry. Which was an odd combination of feelings, added to her grief and the shock of getting such a formal and - it seemed - callous reminder that her father had died.

She stripped off her night dress, stepped out of her underwear.

(Black cotton underwear, he used to look at her with such lust, slide them down reverently, utterly enamored....No don't think of that.)

She slipped off her wig and got into the shower, turning the faucets on. The water was cold - she didn't care. She stood under the rushing cold water, feeling numb even as her body shook from cold, trying not to notice the blood washing down the drain, unsticking from her shoulders and arms.

But she did.


	3. Chapter 3

Lila Reshaldo was forty seven years old. She had two children, a girl and a boy, both of them grown now and living in other cities, so busy with their lives that she only heard from them at Christmas and birthdays. But she was busy too, afterall, so no need to begrudge them for she was just as much at fault for the growing distance.

Her husband had died seventeen years ago, after defaulting on a lung transplant and falling victim to one of the horrific repo men. She thought of him often these days, thought about him fondly. It was the way of the world, she had grown to accept now, although at the time of his passing she had raged and revolted against the system. She would never truly forgive Geneco, forgive society for how cheap human life was now. For how cheap everyone had let it become. Because hadn't she too, voted yes? Hadn't she been swayed by the logic that it was 'for the best' that it was 'benificial to the future'? Hadn't she been taken in by the propaganda, along with the majority of the human race? She was just as much to blame as anyone else. Charlie was dead and rotting now, because they had all agreed to it, every one who ticked the box had agreed.

She leaned back in her chair, lost in thoughts. She had a comfortable and modern looking office. It had a huge bay window which overlooked the busy, industrial city which loomed all around the Genova Complex. She loved and hated the city. The Geneco building loomed huge and foreboding, overshadowing all others, visible on the horizon. Around it a thrum of activity, all metal and bolts, bodies and motion, strength and erosion.

Her eyes were a pale grey, as was her hair now although it fell in soft waves around her face, a youthful hairstyle. She saw no reason to subscribe to the idea that she had to have 'old lady hair' just because she _was_ in essense, one. She didn't feel old. Her eyes were still sharp and so was her mind. Her face was lined, cross hatching around her eyes, deep creases either side of her mouth. She was perhaps ten, twenty pounds heavier than she had been in her youth, although in today's society you were only as beautiful as your replaced parts anyway, not your body mass.

She had never succumbed to the allure of elective surgery. She had thought about it, in her younger days, but after losing Charlie to a repo man, she had changed her point of view. What use was fashion, what use was a new face, skin, organs, enhancements? Hers and Charlie's had not been a love to write poetry of or cross oceans for. But he had been her friend. Her dearest friend. And the father of her children as well. Even now, so many years after the event, she would miss him at strange times. Reading a funny joke in the paper, she would have the overwhelming notion to share it with him. And then the loss would be felt again, like a blow to her solar plexus. She hadn't cried for him in many years, but that dull ache would be enough to make her stop, think of him, and feel a gentle sadness wash over her. It had been a _waste_. Pure and simply, a waste of a perfectly good life.

After Charlie was gone, she never entertained the notion of remarrying. She had been thirty, and the youngest of her children had been only eight years old. With two children to support and now no husband, she had been forced to live with her parents for some years. She studied law, diligently throwing herself into her chosen path. It took away her sorrow, made it easier to cope. And now she is here in this office, so many years later, working hard and earning a handsome salary.

Presently, she drummed manicured fingernails on her desk top, the acrylic tips making a satisfying clacking sound on the shining black enamel. Her 9 o'clock appointment was a good ten minutes late. She reviewed the file again, small lips twisting thoughtfully to one side. Shilo Wallace. Seventeen years old. Her only family had been her father, who had died in strangely vague circumstances. Along with Rotti Largo, the founder and president of Geneco. His name had been Nathan Wallace, occupation unknown.

Nathan had come to see her only weeks earlier, seeming a rather sad and quiet man. A little younger than she was, but something in his eyes seemed much older than his years. A tiredness, a resignation. She had been unsure what to make of this softly spoken man who was polite yet aloof to the point of coldness. Except when he spoke of his daughter, Shilo, at which times he seemed to glow a little. His eyes seemed a little less tired, a little more alive.

"I'm all she has." He had said, "I need to make sure, if something were to happen to me, that she would be okay."

He had seemed so sad when he said that. Had gone about the process of drawing up paperwork and signing documents in such a manner , one moment cold and businesslike, the next sad and withdrawn. She had been put on guard by him for some reason. This man seemed not quite right. Somehow too reserved, as if he were carrying a great secret. She was used to people with secrets, usually the secret being that they were guilty of the crime they were wanting defence in regards to. But his was different somehow, something that loomed, frightening and severe.

In the midst of her musings, an electronic buzzing brought her back to the present, and the male voice of the receptionist spoke from her white speakerphone on her desk.

"Miss Reshaldo, your nine o'clock is here."

"Send her in." Lila said, without preamble.

Fifteen minutes late, she was going to be put behind schedule if she did not deal with this appointment swiftly. She had every intention to be direct and to the point, rush through this, get the papers signed, and get to the next client. Until she saw the girl. She looked so small and delicate that Lila did a double take. Was she really _seventeen_? Lila tried to keep the shock from her face as she stood up to greet her. She profferred a businesslike hand towards her, over her desk, as Shilo approached her. Huge brown eyes blinked owlishly at Lila. They were a little red, as if the girl had been crying recently. Her clothes were a little old fashioned, all lace and bows and seemed to hang about her frame a little ill fitting.

Shilo shook Lila's hand, looking for all accounts like a frightened rabbit. She would have barely been five feet tall. Tiny hands, long black hair that shone and fell straight about her face. Yet closer up, Lila could see a sort of tormented wisdom in the girl's face. It reminded her vaguely of Shilo's own father. She seemed wise beyond her years, stronger than her body. She had the haunted look of someone who has seen things they wish they had not. Who has knowledge they would rather forget.

"Shilo Wallace, it's a pleasure to meet you." Lila said easily, gesturing for Shilo to have a seat in the comfortably padded red chair in front of her desk.

"Thank you." Shilo said softly. Her voice was melodic, although a little strained. "I uh, I had trouble finding your office. I've never taken the subway before."

This struck Lila as a little odd - who on earth _didn't_ make use of the all encompassing city subway? You could be anywhere in the city in under twenty minutes. Her eyes flicked to her paperwork briefly, noting that the girl lived just on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps her father had driven her everywhere, Lila mused.

Shilo took a seat, her long white legs crossed at her ankles, black lacy skirt just touching her knees. She looked apprehensive as she folded her hands in her lap, black nails glinting in the bright white light of Lila's office.

Lila got down to business rapidly, explaining to Shilo that Nathan had been to see her weeks earlier and had drawn up a will, to ensure Shilo would be well provided for. Shilo seemed to listen and watch her with a vacant expression, face revealing nothing. Almost mask like. Her father had left her everything he owned; his house, belongings, and all of the savings he had accumulated over the years. It was not an excessive amount, but enough to ensure she could live comfortably for many years. His money had been placed into a trust, of which she was to receive weekly allowances, or lump sums at her own choosing. He had shown a lot of faith in her daughter, faith that she would be responsible. Quite likely he had not meant for his will to be put into effect for many years.

"Your father has gone to every effort to ensure you are well provided for." Lila assured Shilo, who continued to watch her wordlessly, "I know it must be very hard for you to lose a family member."

She was trying to ellicit some sort of a response from the girl, but not until she spoke these words did she get one. Shilo seemed to jolt to life, eyes suddenly narrowed and menacing.

"To lose a family member?" She repeated, a little sardonically, and let out a short laugh, that went on a little longer than it should have, and seemed to be on the verge of turning into sobbing. "To _lose_ a _family member_?!" She said it again, this time a little more hysterically.

Lila was taken aback by this sudden surge of emotion from the girl who had seeemed almost doll like up until now, "I didn't mean to-" she began, but Shilo interrupted her.

"Don't you sit there and tell me how _hard_ it must be!' She exclaimed, "Don't sit there and tell _me_ that you _understand_!" She was clearly fuming, visibly irate now.

Lila was reminded quite strongly of her daughter's teenage years, and as a point of fact her own.

"My dad wasn't just a _family member_, you don't even _know_ who he was! You can't talk about someone as if you know them! You don't know _anything_! My dad was _warm_ and _kind_ and he was_ clever_! He smelt nice all the time and he..." Her voice broke and tears started to course down her pale cheeks, she spoke through her sobs, "He was...he was _everything_ I... had."

She collapsed into hot angry crying now and Lila found herself jumping up from her desk and hugging the girl. So much like her own daughter had been at that age, and it hurt her heart to see her suffering. Shilo flinched and tried to pull back, but all at once she gave in and fell into this strange, unkonwn woman and cried into her blouse. Lila rubbed Shilo's back softly, and it was such a motherly thing to do, something so foreign to Shilo and yet familiar at the same time as it reminded her of her father. Yet this woman smelt like lilac and jasmine, so flowery and feminine. Shilo choked on her tears and said in a voice that was raw and aching.

"I told him I hated him sometimes."

Lila patted Shilo's back gently, "Oh darling, all teenagers tell their parents that sometimes. He knew she loved him."

Shilo's sobs errupted again, "Sometimes I really _did _hate him. I _hated_ him!"

Lila drew back and proferred a box of tissues to the girl, who took them with a sniffle and started to wipe her nose and eyes. Feeling more like a social worker than an attorney at the moment, she reassured the girl again.

"We all feel as though we hate our parents sometimes." She said, "It's part of growing up."

But Shilo seemed to have withdrawn again, and would say nothing further about her father. She just dried her eyes and her face became a mask again. There was something so broken about her. Lila's heart still hurt a little to look at her, as she guided the girl to sign the neccessary documents. And then she asked her what she was going to do now. Shilo fixed her with a steady gaze, one that seemed resolute and a lot more grown up than her youthful face and her small body.

"I want to go somewhere." She said, evenly, her tears dry now, sobs gone, "Somewhere I can see the stars, and trees. I don't want to be here, anymore."

Lila cocked her head to one side, a little taken aback by this almost childish yearning that Shilo had voiced, "You want to sell your father's house?" She asked.

"No!" Shilo exclaimed, eyes wide with horror. Then she looked down at her hands, clutching at the edge of her skirt, "But I don't want to live there. Not right now. Maybe someday but..." She trailed off, seeming to be lost in thought. She came back to the present, looked up at Lila again, "I don't want to be here right now."

Lila nodded slowly, regarding the girl with a soft affection for her, for her plight and her delicate ways, "I'll help you, Shilo."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"You do know this isn't...how familes are supposed to behave, don't you?" He'd asked her softly.

She lay on her side, watching him dress, comfortably lethargic after the act. She felt sated, validated. She felt...beautiful. Because she was, to him.

He buttoned his shirt clumsily, looking down at her, as she languished on the bed, partly covered by her white bedsheet. The soft yellow glow of the lamps in her room lit her pale skin as if from within. Her head was resting on one hand as she regarded him, her eyes alone betraying her feelings. She drank in every detail of him. The faint lines on his face, the pale green of his eyes, his soft hair.

"We're not like them, daddy." She saw him visibly flinch, and she looked downcast for a moment, "I know that."

She looked up to see that resignation had overcome his face. He sat down heavily on the bed, pulling the sheet more securely up and over Shilo's body. Protecting her. Keeping her safe. Loving her. He touched her cheek, and she saw sorrow in his eyes.

"I love you, precious."

She smiled sweetly up at him, laying back on her pillow as he kissed her forehead.

She couldn't have a normal life, she knew that. She probably never would. She slipped her hand into his, feeling tiredness begin to overwhelm her. Rain was falling outside, she could hear it on the rooftop, the soft pitter patter that drummed the shingles. She drifted into a deep sleep as he sat with her, holding her hand. He stayed with her until the sun rose, simply staring blankly down at her face, watching her breathe. In and out. In and out. Like a melody. Her small, warm hand was the only sensation that mattered, as the rain poured still.

* * *

Lila wasn't a bad person, Shilo mused. She may have even been a kind person, actually. But Shilo knew to keep her guard up. It had slipped once already, given way to grief in front of this stranger. It wouldn't do to happen again. This woman wouldn't understand things if she knew the whole truth. She wouldn't understand Shilo's relationship with her father. She apparently didn't know Nathan's profession, and Shilo wanted it to stay that way. Somehow, she felt the desperate need to _protect _her father's memory. To keep his secrets. They were hers now, her secrets, and she would hold them close. She felt that if anyone else knew, somehow it would taint him. Taint his memory. She had to keep his memory pure and clean, for he _was_ a _good man_. The knew this fact, was _sure_ of it. Hadn't he protected her? Hadn't he always loved her? Misguided perhaps. Inappropriate, sometimes. But it had been for _her_. He'd done it all for her, in his own way. For she had been his world. And he had been hers. As she watched the world move around her, safe from her window, safe from the cruelty and the pain. Oh, but she had felt pain. She knew this. She'd felt pain and bitter sweet rapture. But in his own way, hadn't he kept her safe? She knew he had. In his own way.

She boarded the subway, the assortment of passengers pressing in on her like a tide. So many people in this city, this bustling, aching metropolis of metal and harsh light. The subway was frightening and new, gathering speed out of the station and the tunnels rushed past like a dream, a blur of colour and light. She felt a dizziness that began in her head and caused black spots in her vision. Clinging to a rail on the wall, trying to shake the feeling but it seemed to overpower her. She closed her eyes, feeling waves of nausea creep over her like a tide. She waited for them to pass but her feet were unsteady. The subway was slowing, the carriage clattered to a stop at the next station. She tried to see what stop they were pulling into but found her vision alarmingly blurred, found herself unable to focus on the masses outside on the platform. She shuddered, legs feeling like jelly. Tried to remember the names of the stations, tried to remember the details she'd looked up on the computer. She'd had no idea about travelling into the heart of the city, to reach her destination and meet with Lila. But her father's computer had made it easy, just type in the address and read the details that appeared on the the screen to tell her how to reach it. But now, on her way back to her house, to his house, to the place that had been her prison so long, she suddenly could not stand.

_I'm going to fall down._

She clapped a hand over her mouth as nausea rode over her at full force. The lights were too harsh, people too bustling. She fought to stay upright, clinging to the rail with white knuckles as sounds became hollow and far away, as the passengers around her blurred and twisted into nothing. The last thing she was aware of were strong hands grabbing at her shoulders, holding her upright as her legs gave way under her.

"_Kid?! Are you okay?"_

And then it all went black.

* * *

She's running through endless, darkened streets. Her feet make no noise on the pavement and she can't seem to go as fast as she'd like to. She's searching, running towards something just out of her reach. Got to get there, got to find it, got to find it quickly. She knows there isn't much time. She must find it fast. She runs down alleys, finding dead ends forcing her to retrace her steps. Blind Mag's face grins at her from posters on the walls, she runs past them, desperate and longing to reach her destination. She goes through gates, around fences, past brick and steel and shadowy places. She takes a right, a left. She sees him ahead of her at last, walking quickly away from her.

"Dad!"

Her voice comes out in a whisper although she tries to yell. He disappears through a doorway, an archway in a stone wall stewn with the posters and propaganda that litter the city, and she's pounding down the pavement after him, crying. Tears, sobs, sadness, desperation. She runs through the doorway after him, finding a flight of stairs. She races up them, up and up and up. Finally she's at the top and runs down a narrow passage. It's shadowy and frightening, no light, only darkness, and she runs through it fearfully. All at once she reaches the end of the passage and it opens up to reveal her bedroom. Yellow light, comforting and familiar, But her room! It's flooded with water. The water is up to her knees. And she's wading through the water, searching with her eyes for him. He's on the balcony, and she runs to him, the water splashing but it isn't cold. She can't feel anything but desperation and sorrow. She hesitates as she reaches him. His back is to her and he's looking out over the black ornate fence to the city below and around them. It seems to be burning, everything alight and aglow with flames that lick the billboards, the buildings, everything. But she knows, the flames won't touch them. They are safe here.

"Dad...I was looking for you." She says, touching his arm.

He turns to face her, small sad smile playing on his face. He isn't wearing his glasses. "Are you sure it was me you were looking for?" He asks softly. The flames cast flickering lights over his face.

"I don't..." She began, at a loss for words.

"Can't you see it? It's right there." He said, emphatically.

"What do you mean?" She asks, desperately clutching at his arm, so confused and sad.

"It isn't up to me. I wish it were, precious."

She throws herself into his arms, clinging to him desperately, feeling a desperation that consumes her being. She starts to cry again, bitterly, "Don't go!" She screams, "Please, don't _go_! Daddy!"

* * *

She woke up with wet cheeks and burning eyes. She was still sobbing, cries that wracked her whole body and came out like screams. She sat up hurriedly, trying to fight the sobs back, tears coursing down her cheeks. They fell like rain drops onto the white, sterile cotton blanket that was over her. Presently, she realised she was in an altogether unfamiliar place. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, looking around nervously. A hospital room. Harsh light. She'd never been in one before of course but she knew what one looked like well enough from movies and TV. At the foot of her bed the Graverobber sat on a grey plastic chair, looking at her with a curious but detached expression.

"Oh...it's you again." She said, her voice cracked and raw from crying.

Crying in her sleep. It was a strange feeling. The detials of her dream were falling away, but she clung to them, letting the sorrow and loss wash over her like water.

"Indeed." He said simply, standing up from his seat with a theatrical flourish.

Shilo looked around fearfully, the events of the day rushing back ot her. Her appointment in the city with Lila, the subway. She swallowed nervously, "What happened?"

The Graverobber walked to stand next to her bed and looked down at her, not unkindly, "You fainted, kid. Coudln't wake you up, so I brought you here." He gestured to the hospital room, "I was looking for you, actually. It's not safe for you to go home right now."

She felt a tingle of fear, "Not...safe?" She asked softly.

He shook his head, small smirk playing on his black lips, "Miss Amber Sweet wants to tie up loose ends."

Shilo looked at him, a quizzical expression on her face. "What?"

The Graverobber seemed to sigh, although his expression was good humoured. "Rotti Largo was going to leave you all of Geneco." He stated simply, "She's not too happy about that. None of the Largo kids are." Shilo was still looking at him with that questioning look so he added, "Jealousy is a nasty thing."

Shilo nodded slowly. So. Amber wanted revenge. Deep down, Shilo mused, it was evident that Amber was just a girl desperate for her father's approval. If _her_ own father, Nathan, had favoured another child over his own, it would have been heart wrenching. Of course she hated Rotti, for he had murdered her father, destroyed his life, and hers. The only life she'd ever known. The only person she'd ever truly known or loved. Rotti was the reason for her suffering, for her pain. But he had also been a father himself, and had so hurt his children. Of _course_ they wanted revenge. It filled her with terror, but she understood. She trembled, looking down at the drip which was lodged in the top of her left hand. She had no problem with needles, for her father had regularly taken her blood for testing. Hold out her arm, feel his tender touch, sharp sting of the needle. But this thing, sticking into her flesh, was alien and unfamiliar to her. She longed to be gone from this place, from this bed. Where she longed to be, she wasn't so sure. _Home_ was now an alien concept. That shadowy house didn't feel like home anymore. Lila was going to find her a new home. Someplace far away from here. From the city, from Geneco, from the house that held all of her memories. Somehow, she needed to be far away from it all.

The door of the ward opened, revealing an elderly man in a white hospital gown. A doctor. He walked to the side of her bed and regarded Shilo, glancing at his clipboard and making a slight grimace.

"Shilo Wallace?" He said simply.

She looked up at him, hardly seeing him. The doctor acknowledged the Graverobber who was still standing at the foot of her bed, in his ragged clothes and with his brightly coloured hair. His presence seemed absurd, yet comforting. Something familiar to cling to.

The doctor consulted his clipboard again, tut tutting with a nonchalance that slightly irritated Shilo.

"What's wrong with me?" She asked softly, eyes on the drip in her hand.

The doctor regarded her calmly, "You seem to be of good health, iron levels a little low. Traces of a mixture of drugs in your system. You need to cut that out."

Shilo frowned, regarding him icily. She said nothing. She felt a mixture of hunger and the familiar nausea which was becoming more constant in her.

"I don't take drugs." She said firmly. Seeing his unconvinced face she added, "Not anymore."

Her father had drugged her for so long. She fought back a wave of tears at the now irrefutable fact of that. She had been _healthy _all this time. All this time. She thought she was sick, but _he made her_. His medicine...His poison. Did he ever have any intention of curing her? Had he wanted to keep her sick forever? To keep her in his prison? Keep her locked in her room until she was old and died? Obviously he'd realised that she would outlive him. Obviously, since he'd taken the time to draw up a will. Was he just crazy, though? Was the man she adored and sometimes hated, just a lunatic? She wanted to cry, cry until she had no tears left. Maybe he'd been crazy, but he still had loved her. She knew that. It was the one thing she could cling to. He had _loved her._ In every sense of the word. Noun and verb. Love. Father. Dad. Daddy. Love....Lover.

Lila had given her a letter, a thick feeling envelope. It had her name on the front, in her father's hand writing. A letter for her. It was unopened in her satchel. If she opened it...then he'd never give her anything again. She had no intention of opening it, not yet. Where was her bag, she now wondered. Ah. She spotted it, crumpled on the floor by the hospital bed. She felt a surge of relief. His letter was in there. And his glasses. She wanted to reach down and grab it, but was brought back to reality from her thoughts, by the doctor's voice.

"You're aware, then," he said, delicately, "That you are pregnant?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The voices in the room seemed to fade into a buzzing white noise sound, so that she could only pick out bits and pieces of the words being exclaimed. Most of the sound was coming from that strange Graverobber who always seemed to be around. She was aware that she was shaking quite a lot, the doctor's words still ringing in her ears. It was a mistake, surely. Because she couldn't be, it wasn't possible...Well yes, it was _possible_ but it wasn't likely. It was a _ridiculous_ idea, really. Because her father was clever and he wouldn't...he wouldn't let that happen. She was almost convinced that they had made a mistake. Laughable, really. Yet an insistent, nagging voice somewhere deep inside her said quite calmly and with a simple conviction:

_I think I already knew, somehow._

The Graverobber's voice brought her back to the present, "_Christ_, kid, I thought daddy dearest kept you under lock and key, how'd you pull it off?" He seemed to find the news both hilarious and shocking at the same time.

Shilo didn't respond, just stared blankly down at her hands,balled into fists. Her nails bit into the soft flesh of her palms, a calming sensation of sharp, hot pain that seemed to ground her.

The doctor was looking at Graverobber with something akin to curiousity, and the unkempt man threw his hands up in the air dramatically, "Hey now, don't look at _me_!" He gestured to Shilo, "She's a little _young_ for me, don't you think?!"

Colour rushed to Shilo's cheeks, her knuckles white as she dug her nails further into her hands.

"How far along?" She asked softly, not looking at the doctor, her gaze still firmly on her hands.

The doctor considered her for a moment before replying, "We can do a scan to determine the approximate gestation."

Shilo nodded, not looking at him.

He turned to go, but paused to add, "You really had no idea?"

Shilo shook her head slowly. Why should she have? Her periods had always been irregular, it was all part of being sick, and of being a teenager. She'd felt some strange niggling pains in her stomach now and then, dismissed as nothing to worry about. Just part of her blood disease, right? Perhaps her body had been a little different, maybe there had been more of a roundess to her breasts, a hardness in her lower stomach. Certainly she'd felt some pains in her breasts but had only attributed it to growing pains, to development that had set in rather later than most girls. But she'd always been a bit behind other girls. And he hadn't noticed either. _Why _hadn't he noticed? He was clever and he understood things, didn't he?

_Why didn't you know, dad? It was right there in front of you._

The thought filled her with sorrow. She'd felt neauseated, yes, but not so much until...Not until she'd stopped taking his medicine, she now realised. She tried desperately to remember when it had started, when the pains and strange feelings had begun, but she felt too confused, too muddled to properly seperate her thoughts into any logical sequence. She needed him, she needed him so much right now to ask him all these questions that burned. She felt sobs rising and fought them back.

She didn't care for that doctor too much at all, he seemed judgemental and lacking in compassion, something which she found very irritating, since you would expect a _doctor_ of all people to be compassionate and kind, wouldn't you? Her father had been. Although...he hadn't really been a doctor. He must have been, once, though. Surely? Before he worked for Geneco, hadn't he been a real doctor? He knew about treatments and medicine. And poison.

* * *

There was a large plasma screen up on the wall facing the bed in the small, brightly lit room. Shilo felt uncomfortably full; she'd been made to drink 4 glasses of water, since they informed her that the scan needed to be done with a full bladder to increase visibility. It irritated Shilo, yet at least needing to go to the bathroom was keeping her mind off other more upsetting thoughts. Graverobber declined to sit in on the scan, making a disgusted face and stalking off to find a snack machine, so he said. So Shilo found herself alone, lying back on the small cot, looking around fearfully. There was a strange machine next to the bed with another screen on it; it resembled an odd, bulky computer with lots of dials and a keypad. There was a chair in front of it, and another at the foot of the bed. Apart from that the tiny room was bare. She couldn't help wondering why hospitals were so..barren looking. She folded her hands over her stomach, feeling strange and nervous in this small room, wearing only the hospital green gown that tied up down the back, over her undreclothes.

Presently, the door opened and a woman entered. She was in her early thirties, with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled at Shilo, walking briskly into the room and fiddling wih the machine by Shilo's bed.

"I'm Dr Maple" She stated, revealing a mature, slightly husky voice, "How are you feeling?"

Shilo shrugged, "I need to pee." She said, a little embarrassed.

The doctor laughed lightly, "That's the idea, honey." She smiled reassuringly again, "Can you lift your gown up for me so I can get to your stomach?"

Shilo felt very embarrassed, turning her face away as she did as she was asked. Her legs felt very bare, her cotton underwear very exposed. The air in the hospital was cool and crisp. Shilo flinched as the friendly doctor smeared a cold jelly like substance on her lower stomach. Then she felt the even pressure of an odd instrument being pressed down on her small stomach. Now she _really_ needed to pee. She gritted her teeth, wishing her father was here. Although perhaps, a very quiet voice in the back of her mind remarked, perhaps he'd done quite enough already. She felt a surge of guilt for thinking that, felt tears slide down her cheeks. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to imagine she was somewhere else. Not here, not in this place. Not feeling like this. The doctor was moving the weird, rounded object firmly over Shilo's skin. She tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the pressing feeling. Thought of happier times, so far from her now. Just...moments. Tiny moments in time, shared smiles and comfort. _Dad..._

"Ah here we are!" Dr Maple exclaimed, and Shilo was ubruptly brought out of her daydreams.

She whipped her head around to look at the doctor, her eyes fearful. Dr Maple gestured to the large screen over the bed, "Look up there, silly."

Shilo looked up at the screen to see an odd, grainy looking image. She had no idea what she was looking at. Dr Maple pointed out different things. A little flashing light was apparently a heartbeat. She could make out the outline of it, but it didn't look like a baby. More like a lima bean. Some weird little lima bean with a fluttery little heart, growing in her stomach. What a disgusting thought. Shilo felt ashamed to feel a little disgusted at the idea. But she still did.

"I'd put you at about seven weeks." Dr Maple said, still tapping keys and pointing out things intermittently.

Shilo looked horrified at this, looking at the screen, "S..Seven?" She shook her head, "No but, I can't be you see...that is...Uh."

Dr Maple glanced away from the monitor and looked at Shilo. Her eyes were hazel and heavily lined in thick black makeup, "You didn't know?"

Shilo shook her head miserably. She burst into tears then, angrily rubbing her eyes, feeling frustrated at herself and her constant waterworks. She fought back a sob and looked at Dr Maple with red eyes. _Seven weeks_?! That thing had been there for that long? She looked at the screen again, at the alien, evil little thing. Something in her softened as she stared at it, though. It probably wasn't an evil thing, it didn't ask to be there, afterall.

"Is it...healthy?" She asked, her voice quavering.

"It seems to be developing well." Dr Maple said, reassuringly patting Shilo's shoulder.

For the first time Shilo was forced to think of the word 'incest' and acknowledge the very real implications of such a thing. There were reasons why things like that were taboo. Genetic defects, right? She tried to remember, tried to wrap her head around it. She buried her face in her hands, crying once more.

Dr Maple stood up slowly, making a hasty retreat - she was used to dealing with excited expectant mothers, not this. "I'll give you a few minutes to collect yourself. Your friend is outside waiting for you, would you like to see him?"

Shilo didn't answer, just cried softly. She heard the door open and close. Stared down at her stomach, still glistening with the odd cold jelly the doctor had rubbed on it. She suddenly felt angry, staring at it.

_Stupid...STUPID! Why were we so stupid?! Why was HE...?! Is this how he protects me? Is this how he looks after me?_

She heard the door open again, and looked up expectantly. It was the Graverobber. He had her bag with him and her clothes.

"Listen kid, you've gotta get dressed. We're out of here. You've been here too long already."

He looked visibly impatient, and Shilo was filled with the fearful trepidation again. They were coming for her, she realised. Amber Sweet. Geneco. Looking for her. Amber wanted her dead. As horrible and confusing and painful as life had become since her father had died, Shilo sure didn't want to die. Hurriedly she got down from the cot and took her clothes. The light green medical gown she was wearing was oversized and made of some odd light would be glad to be rid of it. She raised an eyebrow at him and the Graverobber rolled his eyes at her, spinning around so that his back was to her.

"You think too highly of yourself if you think I'd care about looking at your underwear, kid." He said it with a smirk.

No reply from Shilo as she untied the gown and let it drop to the floor.

"D-don't Geneco run everything? Won't they already know where I am?" Shilo asked, fearfully.

The Graverobber shrugged, looking at the wall, "They're not quite all powerful you know. Close to, maybe, in this city at least. But they'll be here soon enough if we don't hurry."

Shilo straightened her wig on her head which was slightly askew. She tugged it firmly into place. Then she began to dress hurriedly. Her companion tapped his foot impatiently, murmuring 'come _on_ come _on" _under his breath. She buttoned her blouse clumsily and finally picked up her khaki satchel from the floor, its weight on her shoulder comforting.

"Come on, Up-the-duff." said Graverobber, as he grabbed her hand and they made their way hurriedly from the hospital.

Amidst her fear and shock, Shilo hoped that 'Up-the-duff' would not become his new nickname for her. As they ran, she reached into her bag to close one hand around her father's glasses and clutch at them. How she longed for her father now, so many questions she needed him to answer. She wanted to curl up and cry but she just clutched at the glasses and walked briskly after the unkempt man leading her out, praying no one would notice them. As they left the hospital she let herself relax a little and her mind wandered. Her thoughts strayed to times long ago. Her father, her sickness. The sickness he gave her.

* * *

She felt sad today, sitting at the piano in her room absentmindedly pressing keys. She liked the piano, it was fun to press the keys and hear the pretty notes. Daddy had taught her a couple of songs, taught her how to read the notes on the sheet music. She could almost play all of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star from memory. She was nine years old now, a maturity really beginning to blossum in her face and her manner. She was a rather quiet and thoughtful child a lot of the time. But her smile could light up her face, suddenly. She pressed the keys experimentally, not caring about the tune, saying the letter names of the notes out loud as she stuck them.

"B...E...E." She thought for a moment and then, "D...E...A...D."

Spelling words with the notes amused her, although today she did it with an almost cold detachment, small hands moving slowly, almost boredly over the keys.

"D...A....D."

She stopped and looked down at the keys sadly, swinging her legs, her feet brushing over the carpet back and forth. She was small for her age. But her maturity was evident in her face and in her personality. She heard the jingle of keys outside her bedroom door. She looked down sadly at the piano keys again as her door opened and her father walked briskly into the room. He had brought her breakfast tray, laden with a bowl of cereal and a cup of juice. The crockery was a pretty blue colour and had ladybugs printed on it. Shilo loved those plates, the matching cutlery and cups. Her daddy was always giving her little things like that. Useful things, which would make her smile. His strong arms encircled her and he lifted her up for a hug, swinging her around and kissing her hair.

"Shi, how are you feeling today?" He asked, setting her down on her chair, in front of the small table on which he'd set her breakfast down on.

Shilo shrugged, not looking at him, "I feel okay." She said quietly.

Her father swiftly prepared her morning dose of medicine. She hated the taste of it, it was bitter and fizzy and sometimes made her tummy feel strange. The taste caused her to pull such a disgusted face sometimes that her daddy would look away from her hurriedly, as if he couldn't stand to see it.

"Daddy...Am I going to get better?" She asked, looking at him as he handed her the glass containing the much hated medicine.

His face registered no response, as if he hadn't heard her, but he replied easily, "Of course you will precious, I'm going to find your cure."

Shilo gulped down the bitter liquid obediently, following it quickly with a mouthful of the sweet orange juice from her breakfast tray. Her father smiled at her and she put her cup down carefully, looking at the ladybugs on it. She had a pet ladybug for a while, but it died. All of her pet bugs seemed to die. Her daddy told her that bugs never lived very long, that they would live for less time in the wild due to predators than they would in her room, with her caring for them. But it still made her sad when they died.

"But what if you don't find the cure, daddy." She said, a look of concern creasing her childish face, making her look older. "Will I die?"

She was looking at him with such yearning in her eyes, her small mouth set in a line. He leant down and stroked her cheek tenderly, his kind eyes regarding her. Had she been older she may have noticed how sad his eyes looked, the hint of remorse on his face for just a moment, before he turned away from her.

"I'll find it, Shilo. Don't you worry." He began straightening things in her room, tidying toys and picking up items of clothing to be washed.

"But if you don't, I'll die won't I?" She repeated her question in a more forceful manner. He continued tidying, not looking at her. It made her angry, and she jumped up from the table, knocking her chair backwards. She felt _furious_.

She yelled at him, her hands balled into fists at her side, face screwed up with anger, "I'm going to _die_ aren't I!"

He spun around, facing her with anger and shock all over his face, "I wouldn't let you die, don't ever say that! Don't even _think_ that!"

She shrank back a bit, looking guilty.

"Don't ever say that again, Shi. Not _ever_ again, do you understand?!" HIs desperation was palpable, something Shilo could not really understand.

She just knew that she had made him sad, and that it made her feel bad inside. "I'm sorry." She said quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Shilo was sitting on a threadbare couch, her legs tucked under her. She clutched her father's glasses in her hands in front of her, looking around at her surroundings fearfully. The building had at some point been part of a block of offices. It was so old now, so decomposed and wrecked. Large holes in the walls, the ceiling. Everything was falling apart. Just bare metal beams, stubbornly holding together to keep the whole thing for falling down into a twisted pile of rubble. The ripped, stained and faded couch was one of the few pieces of furniture that weren't broken or unusable. There was a chair as well, in worse shape than the couch was. A small table, strewn with the Graverobber's personal effects and other odds and ends. A mattress on the floor - Shilo shuddered at the thought of sleeping on something so filthy looking. A couple of lamps lit the room, although it was still dark and shadowy. The lamps did little to help with the gloom.

Shilo heard muffled noises and whipped her head around towards them fearfully. Her eyes were wide, and she clung tighter to her father's glasses. Her heart was racing.

Graverobber emerged from the shadowy doorway, stepping into the flickering candlelight. His boots clumped noisily on the remnants of mildewed carpet, which barely covered the bare boards under it.

"Settle down," He said, rolling his eyes with a grimace, "It's just me."

He stepped in front of her and presented her with a small box of Chinese food, which was warm and smelt good. She took it awkwardly, looking at him with a questioning look.

"May I present, dinner! " He said, giving her a smirk before he turned on his heel to stalk over to the chair and sit down with a lanky grace, feet stretched out before him. He rummaged on the floor beside the chair, leaning over the arm, sorting through the random junk that littered the ground, until he retrieved a slightly worse for wear newspaper. He disappeared behind it, humming quietly to himself.

Shilo sat where she was for a few moments, looking at the cardboard container in her hands. She felt uncomfortable at this virtual stranger's generosity. Why would he go out of his way to help her? Why should he care? He seeemed a man intent on making a profit, but he hadn't asked her for anything.

"Why are you helping me?" Shilo asked, finally. She frowned a little, "For that matter...What's your name?"

He sighed loudly, putting the paper down on his lap to look over at her, "Firstly, because you're hopeless. And as for my name, Graverobber is fine."

Shilo opened the cardboard container, the fragrant smell of noodles and sauce made her mouth water. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until now. She cast another look at her helper, still confused. But she sensed that there was no point in asking further questions. Graverobber had hidden behind his paper again.

"Thanks." She said simply, beginning to eat.

* * *

Graverobber shared his space with Shilo for almost a week. He was constantly coming and going, bringing her food and news of Geneco. Still the search continued for Shilo, but Graverobber was confident that she would be safe, hiding out in one of his many lairs that dotted the aching, industrial city. Rumours circulated that she had left the island, or was dead. Graverobber encouraged these speculations. Amber Sweet had been in contact with him, for hits of Z which she craved so regularly. He gleaned what he could from her without seeming too interested. She was a busy woman now, taking care of the great and looming empire that was Geneco. But her vendetta against Shilo was still a priority for her. She wanted to know that the girl was taken care of. She wanted no reminder of her father's betrayal.

And so Shilo hid. Hid in that shadowy and dank place. Contemplated her own existence, missed her father. Slept on the threadbare couch, although she found it increasingly hard to sleep. She would feel exhausted almost constantly, but unable to sleep. She had hurried conversations with Lila, who was trying to secure Shilo both a way out of the city, and a place to go. She worked diligently to find Shilo a place to call home. Some place far away, with trees, and stars. And she sorted out the finer details of bank accounts and trust funds, which Shilo cared little to hear about. She'd never had to deal with money or bank accounts, and it was all a little overwhelming. Graverobber was more helpful, since he knew she had not seen the outside of her bedroom for most of her life. He explained how things worked. He was good at explaining things.

* * *

It came about that Shilo found herself about to board an immense cruise ship. It was a foggy and crisp morning, fog and the ever present smog all but blotting out what sunrise there might have been to see. Shilo looked at the city from the metal board walk with a cold detachment, an unflinching resolution. She looked over at the Graverobber who had come to see her off. His hair was as tangled and unkempt as ever, pulled back off his face. He gave her one of his knowing smirks, blowing her a kiss. He turned to leave her there.

"Wait-" Shilo said suddenly, reaching out for him.

He glanced back to her, looking unconcerned, "What is it?"

Shilo rummaged in her bag, "I wanted t-to give you some money...You know to say, to say thank you, to pay you back?"

She held out a fistful of shining coins to him, but he waved her hand away, looking faintly annoyed, "You. Really are. _Hopeless_." He turned and stalked away, shaking his head, leaving Shilo standing there, still holding the coins.

She looked downcast, drawing her messenger bag in closer to her. She wore a black hooded jacket, soft black faux fur around the edges, the hood up around her face against the cold breeze that blew in from the brown, metallic looking ocean. Graverobber had sorted out some clothes for her, since it was too dangerous to go back to her house for her own. Not while Geneco were looking for her. She would buy new clothes. She had always wanted new clothes, for that matter. Fog horns sounded, wailing sirens, all the sounds of the city rolled and combined around and above her. She looked at the city once more, her hand unconsciously over her stomach. And she turned and walked towards the ship, jacket wrapped tightly around her, one hand in her jacket pocket, clutching her father's glasses. She didn't look back at the city again.

* * *

People tended to all stick to the big cities these days, the masses crammed into the towering and sprawling networks of metal and brick. Everyone wanted to be close to the heart of the cities, everyone working and living and breathing in these huge and menacing environments. So it was everywhere, as Shilo's home city had been. And Geneco had branches in every major city, too. Of course they did. Once upon a time, there was religion. It seemed now though that society had grown past and away from such lofty ideals. No one worshipped in churches anymore. Perhaps the epidemic of organ failures had been the final plague. Now, were those who remained the saved, or were they the ones left behind? Whoever they might be, they worshipped Geneco. And the idea that they could improve themselves. Maybe everyone was their own god, now.

But there were still places outside of Geneco's control, only barely, but they were. Small towns, kept safe due to their own unimportance. Shilo went to one of these. A nondescript coastal town, it took a week to reach it on the boat. The journey was frightening and strange. Yet oddly, she also found it thrilling in some ways. She had never seen the ocean. This huge, moving thing, reflecting light and so blue. She took to rising early in the morning to watch the sunrise over the water, which stretched out as far as she could see in every direction. Ocean spray, cool wind across the water, caressing her hair. She would stare, enraptured by the colours and sensations she had never experienced.

She kept to herself during the journey, staying in her cabin a lot. It was a cruise ship, albeit a run down one - but most things were run down, worn out, in the world now. Everything seemed worn and overused. With the focus on self improvement, there seemed no urge for anyone to improve the world around them. She felt more like a refugee than a tourist, which was what all the other passengers seemed to be. Couples on their honeymoons, families going away for vacations. She felt seperate from all of them, and everything was so new and confusing. And she was very alone, often feeling nauseated, exhausted and prone to crushing despair. Lila sent her messages, which was a strange comfort. She sat for hours sometimes, on her small bed in the cabin, feeling the boat rock, just staring at the unopened letter from her father. She knew it wouldn't contain the answers she so desperately wanted. So she just stared at it. In the very bottom of her bag, she unearthed a tatty, scuffed paperback book. She had never seen it before and she frowned, looking at the cover. _Up The Duff - Pregnancy and You. _She knew immediately that Graverobber had put it there. In spite of herself she smiled a little. It was a thoughtful thing for him to do, really. He'd left no note, nothing. But it hardly surprised her. And so she read it, wide eyed and curious, many times over during the journey.

Finally they reached the port, and Shilo's feet hit solid ground for the first time in a week. She drew her jacket tightly around her, for the air was cold. The town was a great deal smaller than that vast dystopian city she had fled, yet it was unable to escape the industrial look of the age. It was early morning when she arrived, the town was waking up, people jogging, going into shops, many cars. She walked through the city square, marvelling at the huge statues. Trees! There were trees here! Shilo looked around her in wonder, quite oblivious to the people who wandered about her. Not the crushing, faceless crowds of the big city. These were just people, going about their business, not pushing and shoving. Shilo turned around on the spot, looking around at the trees in the square, the small pretty flower beds. There was a space with grass, perhaps for picnics. Shilo thought of Lila, gratitude welling up in her like a warmth that spread all over her body.

--------------

She rented a small flat just outside the centre of town. It was on the third floor, and had a small balcony from which she could see the bustling street below. It reminded her of home, she realised with a stab of longing. But despite this, she loved the small, two bedroomed space. There was a little kitchen with all the modern fittings which she haphhazardly learnt to use. She took a part time job waitressing down the road, just to have some money coming in and to pass the days. She kept to herself for the most part, not venturing much about her past. Her pregnancy began to show, and she would often sit, with one small hand on her expanding stomach, willing that baby to be healthy. Somehow, it stopped being an evil lima bean, and she started to see it as an actual child. The next ultrasound had shocked and amazed her. There was the little bean, but it had a discernable head and limbs and eyes. She implored the doctor to make sure it was healthy, again and again.

"Is there some reason it wouldn't be?"

Shilo blanched, looking at the doctor with fear in her eyes. She couldn't tell anyone, not _anyone_. She had to keep her secrets. She just shook her head. And then she found out it was a boy. _A boy_!

She kept her job right up until the final month of gestation. She was simply too tired and her feet too swollen by that point, for her to wait tables. She lapsed into despair for that final month, watching TV in her small apartment, eating icecream out of the tub. Missing her father, but feeling like such a totally different person at times that her previous life seemed like a dream. And she hated herself for the moments when she seemed to forget to grieve for her father. Forgot to be angry at herself for letting him die. For she came to blame herself, started to go over things in her head. If she'd just gone home when he'd said. If she'd not left the house. If she'd not let Rotti take the gun...And she spent many sleepless nights crying into her pillow at the sheer unfairness of it all. She had to remember him, she had to go on missing him. Otherwise, what was the point of any of it?

----------------

All she really saw was a blur of colour, a symphony of urgent sounds around her. She was laying back, her wig had fallen off someplace she realised. Short, stubbly hair was growing on her once totally smooth head now. She still wore her wig though. But it occurred to her that it had fallen off. Which was...annoying. She watched, eyes unfocussed as doctors and nurses seemed to dash around her, moving this way and that. She felt fuzzy and muddled, tried to remember what was going on. The baby! Of course! She tried to sit up, but she fell back again, so drugged up. She couldn't feel any pain, but she couldn't feel anything else, either. She couldn't even feel scared. But she was pretty sure she would be scared, if she could. For the baby had been born, she was sure of that. But something was terribly wrong. She overheard brief snippets of frantic conversation between the doctors. _Congenital. _ What? _Heart defect._ Oh. His heart wasn't working?! She had to see him, wanted to see him just once...Shilo tried to reach out towards the cluster of white coats that were surrounding the table on the far end of the room. These days, labour wasn't what it used to be. Zydrate took care of the pain, took care of everything. Shilo watched colours swim before her eyes, moving like liquid. She didn't realise she was crying.

* * *

"Dance with me, dad!"

She was smiling brightly at him, twirling in circles around her room to the tune issuing from the speakers of her stereo. It was a classical piece with violins and cello, beautiful and haunting. Her father looked a little lost, watching her.

"Honey, I'm not much for dancing." He said, looking uncomfortable.

Shilo rolled her eyes, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards her. She wore a deep blue, shimmering evening gown. She'd found it in one of the trunks that were full of her mother's clothes. Her father seemed to lose all colour in his face when he saw her in it. It clung to her small frame, falling in cascades from her hips to her ankles. High neckline and a low, sweeping back line, exposing an expanse of her creamy, palid skin. She looked so grown up in it. Older than seventeen. She seemed to radiate sensuality in it, so different from her usual innocent beauty.

He found himself pulled against her and she swayed to the music, smiling at him, "Please dad, show me how."

He sighed good humouredly at her, taking her hands in his and guiding her to put one hand on his shoulder. He put his hand lightly on her hip, the other clutching her free hand. She looked down at his feet, copying his movements with her own. Then she looked up at him, smiling happily. He twirled her around like she had seen men and women do on TV. She giggled, as they danced around the room.

She could pretend, at this moment, that she were a normal girl. The yellow light of her bedroom could be the dim lights of a restaurant. And she, here with her date, dancing on the dancefloor together. She moved in closer to him, felt him tense and then relax, drawing her into him as they moved in time to the harmonious symphony. At this moment, she could pretend. She looked up to his face, smiling at him. He smiled at her and it seemed a real smile, so rare on him, that reached his eyes. His arms strong and comforting around her, she sighed happily and breathed in that smell of him, rich and cinammon and familiar. She could pretend she was in love. They swayed and moved, to that beautiful music.

And she realised that she wasn't pretending.


	7. Epilogue Epilogue!

Epilogue (Epilogue!)

_Nathan _

_(See also Nate, Nathon, Nathen)_

_A name of Hebrew origin, meaning He gave._

The sun streamed down, bright and warm on her face. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sky, as a cool breeze blew over her, ruffling her shoulder length dark hair. Nathan was playing happily on the sand beside her, digging with his bright green shovel with a childish intensity. He chattered happily to himself as he busily dug the sand up and added it to the small pile beside him. Shilo leant back on her elbows watching him with an aching fondness. The sky was clear, and the late afternoon sun illuminated the soft sand of the beach with a pure intensity. The waves were gentle, rippling only just slightly to lap the shore and recede again. The water was such such a deep blue, the sea air fresh and sharp. Shilo watched little Nathan play, feeling her heart swell with pride at the thought that he would start school in a few months. He was a thoughtful boy, but also curious and bright. Dark tousled hair, and the palest green eyes framed with dark lashes. Shilo knew, that he would look just like her father when he grew up. She could see it in his face. She wondered if he would have glasses.

Presently she looked down at her hands, at the thick envelope clutched in her hands. Her hands were shaking a little, she now realised. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It had been so many years. Nearly seven, in fact. And still this envelope remained unopened. She traced her name, written in her father's untidy scrawl. Quintessential doctor, really. She looked over at her son, still happily playing. You would not know now to look at him what a sick baby he had once been. The only evidence of the two surgeries that had been performed on him, to fix the heart defect he had been born with, was the scar that ran down his chest, white now but still distinct. Really, it could have been so much worse. She remembered the weeks spent in constant fret and worry as his tiny body fought for life, and she could only watch him through glass. The day when she had finally been able to hold him, had finally let herself exhale. She felt as if she had aged terribly in that time, grown far beyond her years. Motherhood had been a constant battle, and so lonely at times she had wanted to give up. And then his eyes had turned that pale green, and she had been filled with such an aching sorrow, yet such a profound love. She realised, it must have been how her father had felt, every time he looked at her.

She looked back at the letter again, slowly tearing it open. The paper was so old now, crumpled from being kept in drawers, clutched at, never opened. Just stared at. She felt hot tears spring to her eyes as the paper tore.

And she read, the aged paper crinkling in her shaking hands.

_My dearest Shilo,_

_For a long time I avoided entertaining the thought of writing you something like this. Truth be told, perhaps I even made myself believe I would never need to. I like to imagine you will read this as a grown woman, as old as I am now or older. Perhaps everything will be different then. _

_But I feel tired. I feel the years catching up with me. I dream of your mother, and she calls to me. I cannot express how torn it leaves me feeling, to want to be with her so much again. Yet I don't ever want to leave you, precious. I want to be with you, always. I would do anything to stay, to be with you forever. I miss her so much, yet love you so much. You truly are everything to me._

_My love, there are things we cannot control or escape, and as the years roll by I become more aware of my own mortality. Perhaps for the first time, I am truly aware of it. Aware of the horrible thought that I will not always be with you. That someday I won't be able to care for you. But you are stronger than you know, please believe me when I say that._

_You never had a normal life. For that I am sorry. Please know that everything I did, I had only the best intentions. Please believe me, Shilo. We were never like other families and you knew this to be true. I did not think it possible for me to love anyone as much as I love you. When I lost your mother I didn't think I had any love left to give. Until I saw you smile._

_Sometimes I think I should have done so many things differently. I have many regrets. Please know that you were the one thing I never doubted, in all of it, the only person who has mattered to me since Marni died. And I may have projected all of my needs onto you; perhaps I loved you too much. _

_Forgive me, Shilo._

And on that sun drenched beach, Shilo blinked back tears. For she had forgiven him for everything a very long time ago. And she knew, that soon it would be time to go back to that huge, industrial city once more. To join the revolt against Geneco, to join the ranks of the protesters fighting for change. Shilo knew that she was ready now, and that soon she would join the fight. Rebellion was beginning, change was rearing its head. After so many years worshipping Geneco, the people had finally begun to question their saviour, to really pay attention to the God they had created. Shilo looked at Nathan and put her arm around him, pulling him into a close hug, his soft hair brushing her chin, smelling of soap and conditioner.

And she smiled.

[end]


End file.
